When Worlds Collide
by phoenixagirl123
Summary: Where to the worlds of fate and destiny, of magic and moonshine, of fairy tales and dragon's tails collide? At Hogwarts, of course! The Big Four now walk the school's corridors... Crossover Big Four/Hogwarts, minimal romance - let the shenanigans begin!
1. Promises

_Disclaimer - Rise of the Guardians, How to Train Your Dragon, Tangled, Brave, and Harry Potter - none of these are mine, of course. Please read, review, and enjoy! -phoenixagirl123_

* * *

"Tell me 'nother story, Dad!"

"Alright, Jack, but this is the last one, aye?" the man chuckled good-naturedly. "Then it's off to bed with you, m'boy. Hm, I know - Once upon a time, there was a seventh son of a seventh son, and though he did not know it, magic was in his blood..."

Jackson Overland had always loved his father's stories of swashbuckling adventure, of fantastic romances (yes, Jack was now desensitized to the kissy parts) and, best of all, of magic. Their family was a simple one; they lived their lives quietly, tending the livestock out in the fields. And every night, a fire flickering merrily in the hearth, Jack would cling to his father's legs and beg for a story. His imagination knew no bounds, and even Jack's mother, a warm-hearted, fretful, practical sort of woman, was amazed at what a tale her husband's words could spin.

He could have written his words, have become a great author with a swimming pool of pounds, but he was a man who preferred a steadier life with his family. "After all, family is everything, yes?" he would tell his wife before blowing out their bedside candle.

As Jack grew older, his parents gave him a sister. But it wasn't the best of times – war and chaos and broken out a few years prior to his sister's birth, and fear was a tangible thing in the breeze. They called the enemy the Bogeyman - an assassin who crept through the shadows and slit the throats of the innocent in their sleep. Ever since the Year of Mists, the one full of government unrest and strange disasters and wretched luck, paranoia still lurked in the hearts of those who had lived through that misery. All were required to partake in a war against the shadowman and his dark-cloaked army. They said it was the Russians; Jack's father was not so sure.

After years of wrangling with the Ministry, Jack's father could not escape being drafted, and he knew now that he had to fight, if only for his family. It had been a tearful goodbye, and Jack made his father a promise – that he would protect and keep safe Emma and his mother from shadow. His dad made eight-year-old Jack a promise too – "I will return, my love, my children. I promise."

Jack quickly learned not to trust promises. He was proud of his dad – proud that his father had helped destroy the Bogeyman's army – but proud indicated that he was happy, and happiness was the farthest thing from his mind.

You can't keep a promise when you're dead.

All Jack had now was his mother, his sister, and his staff. It was his father's last gift to him, an ancient family heirloom. And then something straight out of his father's stories came alive - he one day was merely fiddling about with the thing when suddenly he was carried into the air. It was like a witch's broomstick.

His father would never show him how to fly. Instead, in utmost secrecy, Jack taught himself (a process that involved a lot of bruises, crash landings, and tree branches) and found that being in the air, with the wind at his back and the sun in his eyes, was better than being bound to land.

Then there was the day he learned the staff could channel magic. The kind of magic straight out of his father's stories... He hadn't even known he was magical at all until he'd banged it on the floor and it had started to snow indoors. That day, he was visited by very official-looking people who told a wide-eyed Jack and his anxious mother about the hidden world of witches and wizards, and that Jack himself was a Muggle-born wizard who could attend a special academy, specifically designed for his kind. And that was also the first day he'd seen his mother cry since the funeral.

Jack promised himself that he would never use the staff for magic again… except maybe as a broomstick. You couldn't trust promises anyway. And Jack couldn't give up flying.

He would get a wand instead - because he was going to _Hogwarts! _The two wizards had given him a book - _Hogwarts: A History - _which he had read fifteen times so far. What was inside prompted him to perform his first backflip. Excitedly he talked with his sister till midnight, babbling away about everything and anything he knew about magic, fictional or otherwise, and how he would write to her all about his adventures. Emma was reluctant to let her big brother go – who would calm her down when she had nightmares? Who would cheer her up without his pranks and jokes? Even little Emma's worries couldn't keep Jack down for long – he was soaring above the moon. Everything was almost perfect.

Almost, except for the looks his mother gave him. Worry. Pain. Anxiety. With his ruffled brown hair, honey-dark eyes, and a splash of freckles smattering his cheeks, he was the spitting image of his father. She was afraid for him. He was even more of a rule-breaker than his father, her darling little clown – the type who would easily run headfirst into a fight. Now he was barreling headfirst into a world she would never understand. When he was in her arms, he was oceans away. Even when the scarlet Hogwarts Express had pulled out of the station, she felt only unbearable, maternal worry.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered through unshed tears. "Please come home with your nose on the right way, darling. Please come home safe…"

* * *

Many stories begin with a simple, "Once upon a time." But in our story, the time that was once uponned was one of elder paths, in a chippery little hamlet tucked away upon an island swathed in broad oaks and towering sycamores. Not a story - a legend, a lesson, the kind with a set time and yet timeless, and you would do well not to forget it.

There is a legend, out from the glen, that once upon a time a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens. And from the sun's tears grew a magic, golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured, with far more power than a mere _Episkey._ Centuries passed, and a hop, a skip, and a boat ride away, four wizards of great esteem built a castle, to educate the youth of the magical community. And so much time passed by, and the school flourished in the hands of Headmaster Lunar and his Deputy Headmistress, Primrose Corona...

There was much happiness as it became known that Primrose Corona was going to have a baby. But then she got sick... very sick, with a rare magical malady that hadn't been seen in literal eras. It was as if the entirety of St. Mungo's had been Confunded. There seemed to be no cure, and she was running out of time. And that's when people usually start to look for a miracle. Or in this case, a magic golden flower...

A healthy baby girl - Hogwart's princess - was born, greeted with much rejoicing. To celebrate her birth, they launched a floating lantern into the sky. And for a moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

In a heartbeat, everything was different. It came too quickly, body-slamming Hogwarts mercilessly - the war against Kozmotis Pitchiner touched everyone, wizard and Muggle alike, and Hogwarts, the safest place in the world, had to be protected. Everyone was busier, and just for a moment, Hogwart's princess was left unguarded. But a moment was all _she _needed. _She _wasn't one to give up her precious source of eternal youth without a struggle. She'd broken into the castle, snatched the child, and just like that - gone!

In our story there is a why. _Why _would anyone indulge in such cruelty, to take away a mother's sole source of comfort in a world that was now so full of hurt and hate? It was sick, it was sad, and it was wrong. And then there was a powerful how - _how _could the Deputy Headmistress still hope for her daughter's return? How could anyone so hurt believe in happy endings? But no one understood that for Primrose Corona, hope was all she had left.

The wizarding world searched and searched, but they could not find their little princess. Far away, hidden away in a tower, our resident scarlet woman raised the child as her own - a woman cloaked in crimson and seducing mystery, who had seen much and learned little from centuries of life. Her name was Gothel, and for centuries she had thrived with her magic flower, restoring youth to careworn bones, caressing the petals and enticing it with pleading song. Now Gothel had found her new magic flower - and she was determined to keep it hidden.

Little Punzie was obedient and sweet, but she was also curious, and no matter how hard Gothel tried to break the girl, her flower always came back blooming. And even worse – the walls of that tower could not hide everything, and Gothel dreaded those agonizing days when she would come into the tower, only to be greeted by a cheerful, "Mommy, can I go see those lights in the sky?"

The worst day of Gothel's life started with blue skies, cotton-ball clouds, and a letter in emerald-green ink – _the _letter. The letter from Hogwarts. It wasn't like Gothel hadn't been expecting it - the source of eternal youth _was _concealed in Rapunzel's hair and so clearly she was capable of extraordinary magical powers - but it was a horror movie coming alive nonetheless. Gothel imagined streaks of gray crawling through her hair along her temples and grumbled irritably – what was the _point _of having the source of eternal youth when it didn't keep you _youthful_ for more than five minutes, even when you had a massive fecking panic attack?

More and more came, each determined to reach the child, and Gothel frantically tried closing the loopholes, but even Gothel, a fairly talented witch in her own right, could not hide Hogwarts from a bright-eyed, cheerful eleven-year-old girl. When Gothel had left to fetch some groceries, assuring her daughter of a swift return, Rapunzel had come across a tiny pocket in the stairs, stuffed with bunches of letters all addressed to her. It even put her second-floor bedroom in it. Very curious (who would write her letters? And how did it get under the stairs?) she had opened it, and had not even begun to express all of her wonder and amazement at the contents when her mummy had arrived home.

"But Mother-"

"Darling, that discussion is closed. You know why we stay up in this tower."

"I know, but-"

"That's right, to keep you safe and sound dear. Now, pass the potatoes."

Rapunzel pouted. It had been five days since she had read the letter – _her _letter – and her mother got irritable whenever she even said the word "Hogwarts." A school _designed _for magical kids couldn't be that dangerous, could it? And yet, her mother was still quite sure that there would be bullies and thieves and Venemous Tentacula.

"Mother…" Rapunzel wheedled. "I've never made any friends. I've never _met _anybody!" _Except Pascal, _she thought, but ignored the niggling guilt in the back of her mind for lying. "I want to, y'know, _see _things, _learn _things! It's a magic school! I might even make some friends!"

_"Friends?" _Mother's laugh was like the tinkling of broken glass. "But my dear, that's demented! You've never been to school, with cliques and bullies and – my girl, you think they'll be impressed? Please. They'll eat you up alive!"

Rapunzel looked away. She wanted to _prove _to her mother that she could survive – it wasn't like she was _completely _helpless. She could do lots of things. She did have lots of spare time anyway. Even physically, she wasn't too bad – she had practice climbing up walls and balancing on rafters all day. So she unleashed her greatest weapon – the puppy dog eyes. Because even strict Mummy (well, that was the understatement of the year) couldn't resist the puppy dog eyes.

"If I go to Hogwarts, I promise that I'll stop asking about the ligh-I mean, the stars that come out on my birthday…"

It was a great sacrifice – she'd been wondering about those lights for her entire life – but Hogwarts was worth it. It had to be worth it.

Frowning, Gothel considered the child's words carefully. The mysterious magic of the puppy dog eyes were messing with her mind. She would be so close – dangerously close – to discovery, but she wouldn't be recognized. Gothel could certainly arrange _that. _Their own daughter would be living right under their nose… And a change of scenery couldn't hurt…

And she knew how Rapunzel was about promises.

"…Very well." Above her flower's annoying shrieks of delight, Gothel added, "But – on the condition that I shall be your Herbology teacher at Hogwarts, where I can keep an eye on you, so you won't-so nobody can hurt you."

There was a resounding squeal of happiness from the girl, and she tackled Gothel in a tight hug. "I love you _so _much, Mother!"

Gothel smiled darkly, stroking her daughter's precious hair. It was light and silky beneath well manicured fingernails. Ah, well. Teaching Herbology would mean lots of dirt in her cuticles, but Herbology had always been her favorite subject. She was _very _good at making flowers grow.

* * *

There was a time when her fingers fumbled on a bowstring, when she struggled with an arrow, when she couldn't shoot a bullseye on horseback. It was little more than a distant memory, but it was there – a happy time when the world was carefree, and the war barely made it beyond the haze of innocence clouding a five-year-old mind. To her, everything had been perfect.

To worried parents Fergus and Elinor? Not so much. Having a considerable amount of money suddenly seemed useful, and their Galleons were pouring in to help with the war effort, but fear was still rampant. Kozmotis Pitchiner was good at that – spreading fear. And so the two of them guarded their precious daughter as closely as they could… but rambunctious, redheaded little girls ought to get in trouble occasionally, and her parents happened to take their eyes off their wee lassie for just a moment to speak with a harried scout…

She bounced and tumbled through the undergrowth, crisp leaves crackling merrily at the slightest touch, deeper into the shadows of towering pines and twittering birds. The mossy forest floor was dappled with faint patches of light, and suddenly little Merida felt very small and insignificant in comparison to this vast, ancient place.

And then something rustled, and she turned about with a little gasp. There was nothing, except for the shadows, but she could not quite shake off the feeling that she was being watched, and quite suddenly her heart started beating tremulously.

But all sense of foreboding was forgotten when she heard _it – _a crooning little whisper, like a child singing. She turned to see the glowing blaze of blue smoke, dancing and beckoning to her. _A will o' the wisp! _It was calling to her, bobbing prettily, and she was so delighted by the wisp that she paid no attention to the ominous growl behind her…

Reaching out a tentative hand, she just barely brushed the thing, a sliver of wispy satin, and snatched it back when the wisp faded away in the breeze. _They are real! Magic is real…_

Fergus and Elinor only knew of their child's wandering at the sound of her shrill scream of terror.

Merida raced through the tall grass, but felt paralyzed to the spot as _it _reared above her – with bared gleaming fangs and talons as long as her arms and guttural snarl in its throat, with scales like midnight, its hide littered with the weapons of fallen warriors…

Mor'du, the demon king of all dragons.

Elinor whisked wide-eyed Merida away as Fergus as his kin unsheathed spears and swords and wands against a creature that counted as its own landmass. That day, Fergus lost a leg to Fiendfyre and gained a story he could tell for years to come. And Merida made herself a promise – never again would anyone dear to her to have to come to save her at their life's risk. And Merida didn't know what Jack did about promises.

The light-hearted, boisterous little redhead soon grew into a gangly, untamed spitfire – cute until she opened her mouth. She became known as a sureshot, and by the age of eight she was reputed to be able to pin a fly to tree with one of her arrows without killing it. Any weapon became a natural extension of her arms – any weapon, that is, but a wand. Magic seemed to sputter at her fingertips, and she would rather duel with blades than useless little twigs anyway. Her request for self-defense lessons in between history classes only delighted her father, who much preferred sparring than giving lectures about doddery old kings of the past.

Elinor, however, had other ideas. She despaired in her dear little princess' hobbies. No matter how hard she tried, she could not mold and shape Merida into the lady she had to become in order to become a socialite from a distinguished pureblood family. She was following her own path, and almost certainly she would tarnish their family tree with tainted blood. Elinor had never known a Muggle-born and had never sought to question her parents; she had gladly filled her role, and had sacrificed much for her family. It was a different kind of bravery than that required to climb the Crone's Tooth and drink from the Fire Falls. Fergus always thought that if Elinor had gone to Hogwarts, she would either be the most beautiful Slytherin there ever was, or the quietest Gryffindor.

In DunBroch, the traditional assumption was that all the redheads were Gryffindors. Not one to break tradition, Elinor, a graceful brunette, had been from Beauxbatons. Both she and Fergus had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Neither won – but ever since their first dance at the Yule Ball… the rest was history.

On her eleventh birthday, Merida received two letters – one from Hogwarts, and a second from Beauxbatons.

Merida stubbornly campaigned to go to Hogwarts, her explicit adoration of Fergus playing a huge part in her decision, while Elinor tried to convince her tomboyish daughter to attend Beauxbatons, as it was a school "benefit of my wee little princess." Merida rather felt her mother was taking the "princess" nickname way too seriously.

In the end, after much moaning, whining, and desperation, Merida finally did the most painful thing in the world. She decided to think rationally.

She combed her hair, washed her face, smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, clasped her hands, and reached a compromise. Elinor was so undeniably pleased at her daughter's first real attempt at poise that, a week before the return letter of acceptance was due, Merida awoke to find the Hogwarts uniform hanging from her bedroom door. She then proceeded to awaken the entire manor with her screeches of joy.

"I'm going to _Hogwarts!" _she cried, all poise forgotten. "Mum – I love you _so _much!"

* * *

Berk - fishing, hunting, charming sunsets, and a serious pest problem, and not something you could fix with Auntie Em's Bug-Away Spray either.

Berk was devoid of mice or mosquitoes, due to the place being the most miserable little spit of land ever, with the kind of balmy, sun-in-the-sun weather that would give you frostbite on your spleen, but it _did _have massive biodiversity regarding the dragon, even more than in Romania. And getting rid of the devils involved stubbornness issues, the vocabulary of a sailor, and muscles. Lots of muscles.

Which Hiccup lacked. In obscene amounts.

Well, he had the stubbornness - it was wired into his DNA. And he would stubbornly try and fail and try again until it killed him. Because he was going to kill a dragon and damn the consequences.

Berk had once been a top-notch dragon handling facility, and Hiccup's mother had been one of the best handlers out there. Despite a conspicuous lack of technology and less-than-ideal weather conditions, Berkians got by just fine, just as they had for hundreds of years. But even Berk, in all its solitude, didn't not go unnoticed by Kozmotis Pitchiner when the War of the Fearlings began. Quite the opposite, in fact. Because what better way to spread the fear than to turn their own against them?

After the nightmares set the dragons on them... Grudges in Berk are hard to forget. Unlike the rest of the world, Berk was never freed from war. But to Hiccup, this war was life. And this life meant that for him to be a hero, a son of the chief, he had to kill a dragon.

But the universe was sort of against him. He and disaster clung to one another like a Permanent Sticking Charm. He was a scrawny little fishbone, always poking his freckly little nose into books, clumsy and awkward, using sarcasm as his crutch (impudence, Berkians called it, as most lacked the wit required of sassiness). His father, Stoick, worries for the boy. His son can't lift a hammer, can't swing an ax, and seemed totally devoid of magic. Any and all attempts to strengthen the boy ended in pathetic failure. (Attempt #1: Tossing the boy in front of a furious, flame-spewing dragon is not going to get the boy any stronger. Attempt #2: Handing the boy an ax he can't lift does not in any way solve Attempt #1's problems. In fact, Attempt #1 should not be attempted ever again.)

But all Hiccup sees is disappointment.

Berk wasn't a place for the brainy anymore. But Hiccup's mother had told him before she died never to forget himself. A promise. And Hiccup was bent and bound to it, mostly because his mother had been the only one willing to see something good, the only one who listened. So he stubbornly chased after his dragon-killing (and subsequently getting a girl) dream by going about it Hiccup's Way rather than Berk's Way, and he hoped that maybe one day, Hiccup's Way would be enough.

On Hiccup's eleventh birthday, a letter from Hogwarts arrived, much to the surprise of everyone. Hiccup hadn't exhibited a single sign of magical ability, so it had everyone baffled, including the boy himself. Hiccup was entirely convinced they had gotten the letter wrong...

Until he set Gobber's mustache on fire during dinner. They weren't anywhere near the fire!

Of our fearsome four, Hiccup is perhaps the most apprehensive. He has a chance to start something new at Hogwarts, to make something of himself... but he'll screw it up, like he always does, and Hiccup isn't looking forward to that part. He and disaster were already best buds without magic - now what's going to happen? Explosion, probably. It always involved explosions.

* * *

_Please please PLEASE review - thank you!_


	2. Not At Berk Anymore

Hiccup winced as he dropped his trunk on his foot for the third time. Pausing only to deploy some of his father's choicest swear words, Hiccup heaved a sigh and recommenced lugging the trunk into the stupid compartment.

He was missing _everything! _There were the twins, slapping each other in earnest – Snotlout smooth-talking some chippery little girls with feathers in their hair (Snotty had competition, some handsome bloke who probably didn't have enough brains to fill up an eggcup) and even Fishlegs was nervously babbling away to Astrid everything he'd memorized from _Hogwarts: A History. _It wasn't like Astrid looked _interested _in the plump fellow first year, but living in Berk meant he'd been taught to always assess the enemy-

"What help?"

Despite the friendly nature of the sentence fragment, Hiccup didn't respond too politely, as yet again he had been startled into dropping that bloody trunk onto a now thoroughly flattened foot. When he finished choking back colorful vocabulary, he looked up into the eyes of one of the cheeriest girls he'd ever seen. She was beaming at him as if he hadn't just cursed her out, cheeks flushed, green eyes bright. A guitar case was slung over her back, and she carried a trunk easily twice as large as his own. In fact, the thing looked like it should have been snapping her slender figure in half, but she carried it casually. Without hesitation she grabbed his stuff and tossed it in, followed by her own.

Guess he would learn not to judge a book by its cover at Hogwarts. It was the complete opposite at Berk, and any judgment based on his cover was depressingly correct, when you sized up his scrawny, freckly self. He just hoped the smiley girl was as pretty on the inside as she was on the out-

_Not letting myself finish that thought, _he told himself fiercely. _Think Astrid. Spikes. Violence. Unhindered gorgeousness._

"Thanks," he told the girl.

She smiled back at him. "No problem at all! My name's-"

_"Rapunzel!"_

Hiccup was then body-slammed by an attractive witch in scarlet robes, her voice high and anxious. "My dear, you can't just run off like that! Come along now – the train's about to leave and we must get going to the staff compartment!"

Rather disgruntled about the woman completely ignoring knocking him over, he almost missed the smiley girl's hesitant reply. "But Mother, I just thought-" She rushed on faster, as though expecting her mother to interrupt her."We-could-be-a-little-more-sociable, right? Make some new, uh, friends?"

The woman pursed her lips, eyes surprisingly cold. But before the woman could make a sharp retort, a gruff, distinctly Russian voice emanating from an intimidating-looking silhouette through to steam called to her. "Professor Gothel? Maia Gothel? Please come now to the staff car!"___  
_

"But my daughter-"

"Will be perfectly fine with the other students, I am sure," said the man. Piercing winter-blue eyes punctured through the steam. He was the kind of guy you'd expect from Durmstrang, big enough to rival Stoick. "We have very little time, Ms. Gothel, it is nearly eleven-"

And so it was. The late students were charging without any comprehension of the word _friction _through the barrier. The scarlet train hissed, steam thickening in the station. "The train is quite punctual, my dear." said the burly Russian. With a finally, oddly desperate look at the smiley girl, she wrapped her crimson-cloaked arms around her, well-manicured fingers clutching blonde swaths of hair. "You be careful," the woman hissed. "I love you very much, dear."

"I love you more."

"I love you most..."

Hiccup could see Astrid and the others filing into another compartment down the corridor, but where was-

"Son!" Hiccup turned to see his father jogging towards him through the steam. He towered high above any other wizard in sight, the tangles of his beard ruthlessly wild, a beanie situated awkwardly atop his head. He simply seemed too _big _to be allowed, but at Berk Hiccup himself was expected to grow to that monstrous size. Correction – they had stopped having such expectations when it became clear that he and disaster seemed to be attached with a Permanent Sticking Charm.

"Just – son – Hiccup – er…" He shook his head, his lion's mane getting even more ruffled. "Just – don't blow up the school, ay?"

Hiccup threw up his hands. "Honestly, Dad, it's in my genetics. You're kind of an expert on destroying stuff-"

"Hiccup, this is serious. Please don't – just – be good, yes?"

Hiccup sighed and glared at his shoes. "Yes, Dad."

"Good." Stoick smiled, which seemed rather painful, and patted Hiccup on the back (Hiccup naturally nearly fell over.) "Go and get 'em."

Long after Stoick had disappeared, Hiccup still found himself staring back. He'd been apprehensive at first, but now he was downright nervous about the whole endeavor. Maybe he should just-

"You alright?"

He turned around – it was the smiley girl, looking concerned. It was just then that Hiccup was struck by how _long _her hair was – a good four and a half feet – and it was impossibly silky. It should have been desperately dirty from being in the station, but glowed like someone had just placed a Cleaning Charm on it.

"I'm fine," he said, sitting down properly and managing an awkward smile. "Just… overprotective dad, y'know?"

The girl sighed. "I can relate. My mother – well, "overprotective" is a bit of an understatement. She's going to be the new Herbology teacher."

"Your name is, uh, Rampion, right?"

"Rapunzel, but that was pretty close. Everyone gets it wrong."

"My name's Hiccup. Great name, I know, but it's not the worst. I mean, my real name is a lot worse, not looking forward to when they have to read the thing aloud for the Sorting-"

"Ooh, what House do y'think you'll be in?"

"I hope Gryffindor – that's the House my old man was in-"

Both of them turned around sharply. It was a new boy, a first year like them, nimble and tall. He was a real handsome bloke, pretty eyes, but a sort of crooked smile that immediately gave Hiccup the feeling you should not trust the guy around sharp objects.

"You don't mind if I-"

"Of course not!" Punzie – because that was easier to remember than Rapunzel – said immediately, giving him a dazzling smile and pushing aside her guitar case to make room. "My name's Rapunzel, and this is Hiccup."

For a moment the boy seemed stunned – well, Punzie _was _pretty, no doubt about it – but he quickly cleared his head and sat. "My name's Jack." He glanced at Hiccup and snorted. "Uh, nice name. Hiccup."

"It's a Berk thing-"

"Ye from Berk? The devil's island?"

The first thing you saw when you looked at her was the hair - an unruly, carrot-colored, massive mess that bounced and tumbled with every minute shrug of her shoulders. Then you saw a pale round face sprinkled with freckles, a pointy little nose, and wide, watery-blue eyes. The universe was tossing too many pretty girls at Hiccup for his liking. He disliked having his preferences on females questioned._  
_

Hiccup nodded, and the girl brightened. "Cannae sit here?"

Punzie looked like she would taste like diabetes, she was being so sweet, when Jack interjected. "Your hair's on fire, you know."

The girl instinctually patted her head. "What!" Then she glared at him. "Not funny, Pretty Boy."

Jack smirked, as though highly amused by his new nickname. "Not funny at all" he agreed with an impish grin. "I could do much better." Hiccup felt uneasy. Yes, it was exciting that there was another human being on this planet who had wit, but he was pretty sure this girl, who radiated toughness in tsunami-sized waves, wouldn't take it so well. "What's your name, anyway?"

The girl sat there, dumbstruck, as though slowly processing what he had said. Then she squared her shoulders. "My name's Merida. Friends call me Mer... or they would, if I had any." Quickly Merida turned with interest to their two fellow compartment members. "I dinnae know there were Berkians! What's ye Quidditch team?"

"Er - the Holyhead Harpies," Hiccup said. Of course, he didn't elaborate on the fact that the reason why he supported them was because all of them were so inexplicably... er... _Amazonian._

"What's Kwiddish?" asked Punzie and Jack at the same time.

"Ye don't know _Quidditch? _B-but ye've got a broomstick!" And it was true - in Jack's hands was obviously a broomstick case, made of crude leather.

Jack shrugged. "Well, I suppose being a half-blood is suddenly now a crime."

"Yer an idiot," Merida muttered tersely.

"Of course I am. I mean, it wouldn't be fair to the rest of the human race if I was stunningly attractive _and _a genius," Jack replied smoothly.

_"That's _it!" Merida screeched, and Punzie recoiled as the redhead's hands went slamming down onto the table. "Ye should know ye asked for it, _Pretty Boy!"_

"Yes, yes," said Jack dismissively. "Hug a Hufflepuff and all that bollocks."

"What _are_ ye?" Merida asked, in a tone laced with so much menace that Hiccup doubted even Astrid could take it with a straight face. Jack looked more than a little uncomfortable. Punzie appeared to be hiding behind her guitar case. "Daddy's little squirt?"

For the first time, Jack glowered at Merida with intense dislike. _"Don't _call me that."

Merida balled up her fists and turned to the other two. "Sorry. Ye look like decent people to me, but I'm leaving ye with this arrogant - conceited - ugh!" Unable to finish, she snatched up her things, her face highly colored.

Jack immediately stood up. "Oh, no," he said, scowling unabashedly back at her. "I'm getting _out."_

And they were mirror images of each other as they stormed out of the compartment.

* * *

Rapunzel was distraught, thinking that Jack and Merida scuttling off was her fault, but Hiccup quickly persuaded her otherwise, and soon they were learning of their mutual love of Gobstones, art, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Hiccup's set of Gobstones had been passed down and squirted revolting rotting fish juice, but Punzie had charmed hers to spew buttery popcorn and the aroma of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, and the game was became more a giggly struggle to catch the stuff in their mouths.

"So you're already good at magic, aren't you?" Hiccup asked through a mouthful of liquid popcorn.

Punzie shook her head. "Not so much. I mean, I mostly stay at home all day, so I have a lot of time on my hands, and my mother had some books hidden in her room, so… I learned a few spells. It took me months to do this properly, I can't transfigure on the first try for my life."

Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans was just as much fun as they dared each other with earnest – they got bacon, cabbage, parsnips, sunflower seeds, and Hiccup was forced to wash out his mouth with some butterbeer Punzie had handy in a thermos, because one of them happened to be a cat's hairball (or at least, that's what it tasted like.)

"I never thought you would be the type to take risks," Hiccup choked, still gagging. They'd passed fields dotted with cotton-ball sheep. Sheep - Hiccup had no qualms against sheep. Now they sped past a wild forest, a green blur through the glass.

"Never judge a book by its cover!" Punzie told him brightly.

"Just don't eat the purple ones," he warned her. "Snotlout ate three on a dare and spent a week thinking he was a hot-air balloon."

They goggled over each other's art - Hiccup was amazed at the flowing lines and bright colors of her paint, but she was fascinated by the intricacy of his line-art. "That is the coolest dragon I've ever seen," she said, pointing to a blazing Monstrous Nightmare.

"Well, I would know from experience that those dragons are not to be taken lightly. Only the best of us go after those."

Punzie's eyes widened. "You mean – dragons are _real? _I always thought – Oh my goodness! I never knew-"

Hiccup chuckled. "You live in a world of magic wands and flying broomsticks, and you think dragons is much of a stretch? That bugger there is called a Monstrous Nightmare. Very dangerous. It has this nasty habit of setting itself on fire. I live on Berk. It used to be a dragon handling facility but…" A lump formed in Hiccup's throat, and he hastily turned it into a hacking cough that burned his eyes. "Uh, well, it isn't anymore. But the dragons still stick around, raid the place, attack us and stuff, and we've got no option but to fight back. A lot of us are Squibs or distant from magic… we're more warrior types, to tell you the truth." He looked down at himself. "Well, not exactly."

At that moment, Hiccup turned to the latest page in her sketchbook, and his eyes widened. _"Wow."_

"Wow" pretty much summed it up. The bottom of the page was lined with long hills and dark trees, the sky a rich midnight blue. But what was most extraordinary were the lights that floated from an unknown source beyond the realm of the canvas. The lights were a golden color, and they seemed to flicker and gleam all on their own. Rapunzel herself featured in the picture – kneeling, tipping her face to the sky, her hair cascading off the parchment.

Punzie blushed, her freckles disappearing beneath a pink flush. "Uh, well… That's, um… sort of a…"

"Private stuff? No biggie." Rapunzel looked rather relieved and tucked away her sketchbook.

They eventually changed into their robes. Hiccup's were a little short, with his boots poking out beneath them. Punzie alternatively strummed her guitar and knitted a periwinkle scarf about as long as her hair while Hiccup quietly looked out the window. It wasn't awkward, which surprised Hiccup. Hiccup himself released awkwardness in tsunami-sized waves.

"I wonder how long Merida and Jack will last before one of them eviscerates the other with a carrot peeler," murmured Hiccup idly.

Rapunzel gave him a look. "You're a little cynical, aren't you?"_  
_

Hiccup grinned. "Cynical? Me? Well, then I'll have you know that I make daisy chains and frolic with unicorns on weekends." Punzie giggled, and Hiccup sat in awe of his own cleverness. He'd never made anyone laugh before - well, unless it involved him falling into the mud, or struggling to hoist up a hatchet, or something along those lines.

_Look how she's smiling at me,_ he thought to himself._ She really does fancy me. Look, she's undressing me with her eyes._

_Stop giving yourself ideas, desperate-for-girls self! You're only twelve and your mind is already a very dark place, how awkward is that?!_

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time." Hiccup jumped as the familiar, sing-song voice rang through the train. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to school separately."

"I think that was my mother speaking," said Punzie, putting away her things. Hiccup hadn't realized how late it was, the silhouettes of forests and mountains lined with a deep purple sky.

As they joined the crowd thronging through the corridor, Hiccup took note of how the smiley girl was biting her lip - she was nervous. _Well, no kidding. _Hiccup rather thought he was going to be sick, because his mouth tasted like he'd swallowed a Galleon.

They pushed through the doors, stumbling out onto a dark, tiny platform. Hiccup groped around with his hands, definitely popping a couple of personal space bubbles along the way, until he saw a lantern bobbing above the sea of heads.

"Firs' years! Firs' years, lil' midgets, over here!" A scrawny, gnarled old man with teeth like a staircase and a pointy, hooked nose waggled the lantern impatiently. And beside the guy was... was that a sheep? Ah, well. Hiccup had no qualms against sheep. "C'mon, ye little squirts, hurry it up, we don't have all day! Mildew wants 'is supper!"

Mildew. How fitting. The man was pretty hideous, even by Berkian standards, and Berk was very good at pushing limits in that particular area. But there was a cunning in those milky old-person eyes that was a little off-putting, so for once Hiccup refrained from being a whippersnapper and followed the gamekeeper and his sheep without his typical snark.

The first years slipped and stumbled down a steep, narrow path lined with towering sycamores. A twig cracked loudly beneath Hiccup's boot, and Rapunzel jumped. "Almost there!" Mildew called back to them. "Don' get yer skivvies inna twist, lass, ye'll get yer firs' view of the castle in just a sec'..."

They rounded a corner, and there was a loud, "Ooooh!" Punzie gave a decidedly feminine squeal and bounced excitedly. Hiccup stopped as though Petrified, because-

Because the narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a black lake so clear that it was dotted with reflecting starlight. And on the other side, windows glinting merrily back at them, was a vast castle peppered with turrents and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Mildew called. "Please don' start pushin' each other into the lake, there's a man-eating giant squid and it would gimmie extra paperwork."

Hiccup and Punzie clambered together into a boat, Hiccup clutching flickering lantern. Hiccup, who lived in a world of hastily-built shanteys (wood + fire-breathing dragons = lots and lots of new buildings) was absolutely in awe. He could never have imagined a place like _this. _Or maybe he had, but the sheer gigantic-ness of the place boggled his mind. His mind and his eyes weren't quite making the connection - his eyes insisted _we're looking, it's really there, _but his noggin didn't believe it.

Unfortunately for Hiccup's frayed nerves, Merida and Jack were forced into the same boat as them. After some elbowing and dirty glares and interesting profanities on Merida's part, they finally settled for sitting at opposite sides of the boats and glowering at each other. "Everyone in?" called Mildew, who shared his boat with the sheep and an uncomfortable looking Fishlegs. "Nobody's wet themselves? Right then - FOWARD!"

And the little fleet of boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, as smooth and crystal clear as glass. Everyone was silent, staring at the massive castle up ahead.

"It's downright beautiful," breathed Merida, watery eyes wide. Hiccup could relate.

On his other side, Jack didn't look remotely devilish now. In fact, he looked wistful, nostalgic - scared, maybe, as he blanched beneath the shadow of the castle. "Hogwarts," the boy whispered. "I hope I'm good enough."

_I hope I'm good enough - _great. Just the way to lift my spirits, Hiccup thought. He usually didn't think along those lines. More like, _I guess I'll just try again, _or, _this time it could work. _There was no hoping, just doing. It was a Berk thing.

But he wasn't at Berk anymore.


	3. A Two-Headed Snake

"Overland, Jackson!"

As Jack scuttled forward - not scuttling, _swaggering -_ his stomach churning uncomfortably, Jack hoped he didn't look stupid. Then he realized that it was a stupid thought to have. He'd already watched many of his fellow students being Sorted - groaning when that obnoxious Scot was settled into Gryffindor, sniggering when that geeky Haddock bloke tripped and landed on his face after being sorted in Ravenclaw. And now it was his turn. The last thing he saw before the black of the hat settled over his eyes was a sea of curious faces. Didn't help his nerves too much.

"How interesting," said the hat, quietly now, and to him alone. "How very interesting."

_Is that all I am? Interesting?_

The hat chuckled. "You made me laugh. Sharp mind. Clever. Resourceful. Mischievous, but a bit of a charmer, I see..."

_I am being flattered by a hat. What an odd feeling._

"Brave, too... but bravery does not belong to Gryffindor alone, does it?"

_...What?_

"Yes, I quite believe you belong in SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

A two-headed snake.

That ridiculous big-headed unstylish hat had better have been a real conniving bastard. Otherwise Jack would have run right back over to that hat, jammed it over his ears, and chanted, "Gryffindor-Gryffindor-where-the-brave-dwell-at-heart" until it was brainwashed with Gryffindor-y awesomeness.

Instead, as if Confunded, he had, uh, swaggered (looking like he'd been struck with a Jelly-Legs Jinx) over to the Slytherin table, where he was greeted with whooping and table-banging, completely oblivious to the look of horror plastered onto his pale face. In fact, they greeted him like an old friend, with back-patting and hooting and general celebration. Like human beings. Which sort of countered everything he'd heard about those sick, slimy, prejudiced prats when he was sitting with some giggly snobbish girls on the train.

Bollocks to all of it.

Still in a daze, he sat down near a pink-faced dreamy-eyed fourth year, a bald first-year with a dreadful sneer that was idly dangling his battered-looking wand between his fingers, and a pair of scrawny twins.

He had a better view of the High Table - a woman with feathers in her hair and bright purple eyes, a wiry gray-haired sort of bloke, and that Mildew-creature with that sheep all sat at the table, with others. Sheep. Jack had no qualms against sheep. But Jack had taken a good whiff of Mildew before he'd boarded the boat, and he was could say that Mildew smelled assuredly like the color brown. The big throne for the Headmaster was empty. That was a little weird.

Now the wretched hat was being carried away. A pretty woman with large green eyes, sleek brown hair, and lavender robes was standing up, smiling warmly at the students. But that wasn't right... Jack was sure the Headmaster was a guy, he remembered from his letter...

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" she called, beaming at them. She looked a little familiar. "I am Primrose Corona, Deputy Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, Professor Lunar was unable to attend our start-of-term feast." No one seemed in the least surprised. Why? And where, precisely, was the food? Jack was starving, actually, now that he'd gotten past his pre-Sorting queasiness.

"Now that we're all settled, I have but one thing to say - _dig in!"_

Jack gaped at his plate. Suddenly the table was covered in gleaming silverware, and the tables groaned beneath mountains of food - meats and chickens and fish laid out, warm and glistening on silver platters - peas and carrots and gravy, pomegranate seeds in quaint little trays, and, looking decidedly out of place, peppermint humbugs. Never in his life had Jack seen that much food in his life. Neither of his parents had been what could be called stellar in the culinary arts. Eagerly, he took a little of everything except the peppermints and took Professor Corona's advice wholeheartedly.

As he ate, he listened to the chubby, pink-faced fourth year chatting amiably with the wiry twins - Megan and Tyler Thorston, he remembered. They looked like God's definition of double trouble, which Jack could totally live with. "We're Beaters, back at home," said Tyler. "Beating stuff up is our specialty."

"I'm the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team," said the fourth-year, with a distinct air of dottiness swarming him. A rolled-up _Quibbler _was stuffed into robe's sleeve. "M'name's Cupid. Y'should try out. Y'look wiry. What team d'you support?"

"I've thought about it for a while," said Tyler. "Okay. Think, think, think, think, think. Think, think... I forgot what I was thinking about."

"Puddlemere United, dragon-butt," Megan offered tiredly, and ignored his meek protests of, "Hey! I totally knew that!" She jabbed a finger into his chest. "You should have given up thinking a while back, terror-breath. I did. Never been happier."

Seeing at how bemused the fourth-year looked at the twins, Jack decided it was time to change the subject. He was used to people who beat their drums at a different pace, as he was one himself. "I play Quidditch," said Jack.

Cupid turned those creepily unfocused eyes on Jack, grinning at him like a long-lost friend. "Y'don't look it, ickle firstie! Bit on the scrawny side, y'are. Oh, and first years aren't allowed to have their own broomsticks."

Jack looked at his staff "It's not a broomstick. It's a staff."

Garrett, the bald first-year with the pointy wand, snorted. Jack rather thought his sneer could curdle dairy. "What d'ye _do _with that stick? You've already got a wand, Overland."

Jack looked away. "Nothing," he said quietly. "Just a family heirloom."

* * *

After the meal was done, the Deputy Headmistress stood back up, clearing her throat. She really did look oddly familiar. Certainly he must have seen that face before...

"I only have a few more words to say, before we can prance of to bed. First years should know that the use of magic in between classes is forbidden for all pupils. No student may leave the grounds or wander about the halls after hours without risking discipline, and the forbidden forest is strictly off limits and highly dangerous, due to the increase of centaur clan conflict."

"We welcome this year two new additions to our faculty - Ms. Maudie, our new caretaker, and Professor North, our new Defensive Against the Dark Arts instructor."

Two teachers at the High Table stood to applause - a woman with snigger-inducing endowments, and an intimidating, piercing-eyed Russian (his nationality was even clearer than with that snotty carrot-haired Scot on the train.) What was Hogwarts - flypaper for freaks?

"And now - off you go!"

A very buff dude who called himself Vladmir led the first years through the chattering crowds and down several stairs. The farther down they went, the heavier Jack's eyelids felt. The portraits on the walls whispered and pointed as they passed. He'd read about in in _Hogwarts: A History. _His legs felt swagger again, but this time because he was too tired to much care about being in the evil House at the moment. At least, that was what the girls he had ended up sitting with had said...

"Watch it!"

Jack stumbled backwards, having slammed into some chiseled-chin sort of first-year, with hair that stuck up in the back. Jack muttered an apology. It seemed all the first years had stopped walking. Then any exhaustion Jack had felt before immediately evaporated as an entire ink bottle was poured over his head. Jack just had time to wipe the stuff off his dripping face before he had to dodge another ink pellet.

_"Peeves!" _bellowed the big fellow Vladmir. "Peeves, stop it, or I'll get the Bloody Baron to stick Licorice Wands into your ears!"

A little man dressed in bright purple clothes and a jester's hat swooped over them, cross-legged and grinning madly. "Ickle Firsties!" he cackled. "What fun!"

"I mean it," Vladmir growled, drawing himself up even taller. "Or maybe we'll call _MiM. _Yes I would. How would you like that?" Jack wondered what MiM was - some kind of code name? Peeves appeared to blanche, but then he shrugged, blew a final raspberry at them, and swooped away gleefully, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

Vladmir shook his head. "Peeves," he said, in his growly voice. "Poltergeist. Not so nice. Won't listen to even prefects. He's worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you're late for class." Then he pushed open a towering door that had seemed just like a part of the wall. "Onward!"

Unlike everyone else who was dripping with ink, Jack found that he was grinning. He looked so strange, grinning with his face smeared black and his hair crazily striped, that the muscly first-year he'd bumped into before gave him a look. "Uh..."

Jack shook his head, splattering ink onto the narrow wall like a dog. "I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with that Peeves."

* * *

_Dear Ma and Emma,_

_Hogwarts is really stunning. You know they bewitched the ceiling in the Great Hall to look like the sky outside? Bet I already told you that, it's in_ Hogwarts: A History. _And they have a poltergeist, some cackly bloke named Peeves. Bet I could outdo him. Don't worry Ma, I won't do anything stupid. _

_But I got into Slytherin. Slytherin! They're supposed to be the worst House, slimy little gits, the lot of them. And some of them are a little scary. But the worst part is, I LIKE the Slytherins. They're witty. I met a few. The Quidditch Captain - Quidditch is the wizard sport, you play it on a broomstick - is this sort of pink bloke called Cupid. Part dwarf, I reckon, but there's nothing wrong with him. They're not _nice, _but I'm not looking for nice, I'm looking for witty. There's plenty of banter going around here. I think I could be happy here. But I will always come back to you guys. I promise. Emma, you're allowed to sleep in my bed if you get scared. The owl I'm sending to you, you can name it. Be safe. I love you guys._

_Jack_

Jack was warm and sleepy, especially after a nice long shower, but he still thought his family deserved a letter. He wanted to go on about the Slytherin common room - cold and luxurious and green, with the cool giant squid tapping at the windows and the sound of the lake sloshing outside the dungeons - and about the guys who slept near him. The muscly first-year was named Nathan Greno - there was Tyler, the twin - then there was Garret, who insisted we call him Hook - and Ulf Zabini, the funny dude with mascara in his trunk. Greno was what Jack's mum would call an "over-eager beaver," but he was also the most normal one.

As he was sealing up his letter, in his peripheral vision he saw Garret sneering at Greno. Without pausing, Jack decided to listen in.

"...you're wearing the Muggle-Acceptance Star? And I thought you were alright!"

Greno scowled. "Not cool, _Hook. _I didn't think you'd be one of those big-headed, pure-blooded-"

"If you finish that sentence I swear I will fashion your entrails into unstylish-but-practical curtains," said Garret boredly.

Jack turned around. "What about Muggles, exactly?"

Tyler snorted and rubbed his eyes. "They're being all weird and stuff. Like, _Mudbloods are awful! Muggles are stupid! _And Greno has the star." Jack looked and saw a five-pointed star tattooed into Greno's forearm, bearing in bold print _Muggle Acceptance._

"I'm a Muggle-born," said Jack.

First there was the staring. Then Garret literally gagged and facepalmed himself. _"Ugh! _I was wondering why y'were such an ignorant, weedy sort of twat."

Immediately Jack was on his feet. "Say that again," he said.

Then Greno's arm was on Jack's shoulder. "You can beat him into a pulp tomorrow, but right now, we really don't need the splattered remains of first-years on my dresser. It's _mahogany,__" _Greno added, as if this detail was especially important.

Jack narrowed his eyes, and finally collapsed on his bed. "I'm going to get some sleep," he muttered, turning over. Something painful and burning was lodged in his ribs, and he bit his lip. He rather thought that he might have to revise his letter...

* * *

"This better be good, North," E. Aster Bunnymund warned, idly transfiguring an egg into a baby chick and back again between his callused fingers. Nobody blinked as the flames of the crackling fireplace flared golden and out stepped a squat little wizard in golden robes, brushing golden ash off of himself.

The headmaster's office was an odd combination of two people's lives. About one quarter of it was polished marble accented with gold, accompanied by a tasteful bookshelf and a window that provided a magnificent view of the grounds. The rest was Professor North's world - tables covered in scattered tools and scrap metal and makeshift inventions, shelves of handmade sculptures, baubles and trinkets of every kind. But what drew one's eye most was the globe, a towering eight-feet-tall sphere dotted with pinpoints of light.

The golden-robed wizard signed to North, and North gave Professor Sanderson Mansnoozie a look. "I know, I know, but I wouldn't have called you all here unless it was serious!"

Right on time, Professor Toothiana burst in, with several of her twittering little sisters babbling on excitedly.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, though she was no such thing. "Had to round the girls up. Only Robin wants to go to Hogwarts, she'll be old enough in two years." And sure enough, a cute little girl with Toothiana's violet eyes and lurid pink eyeshadow grinned at them shyly from behind her eldest sister's robes.

While North's house elves haphazardly scuttled out of the way ("Shoo, with your pointy head - why are you always underboot?") North and the others ambled towards the globe, watching it from the safety of a desk.

North spoke first. "MiM has contacted me. He wants to start up the Order again."

Bunny rounded on him. _"What? _But we've been fine! Why on earth does he think - we don't need help."

"He has chosen another. MiM won't give away any names. This new one only walks our hallways now-"

Sandy signed, and Tooth translated. "A first year? Uh, guys, isn't that sort of dangerous?"

"Guys, there is something very big happening," said North. "I feel it!" Pause. "In my belly!"

While Toothiana's sisters busied themselves by executing a Translucence Charm on the contents of North's belly, Bunny scowled derisively. "So, you mean to say, that you summoned me here the day before classes because of your _belly? _Can you believe this guy?" Sandy shrugged and helpfully signed a question mark. Bunny chuckled. "Yeah, you said it, Sandy. You think because you're a fair dinkum Russian that you can _do _stuff like this - like, _this is how I roll," _said Bunny in a hilarious attempt to mimic North's accent (he was rather hindered by his own.)

While North and Bunny started a back and forth, Sandy rolled his eyes. He didn't even bother to try and figure out what a fair dinkum was and - _what was that house-elf doing with his fire whisky? _Ever since North got that crazy idea to put them in belled pointy hats, it was like each new brood got stupider and stupider. Being the Divinity teacher certainly didn't prevent Professor Mansnoozie from being annoyed.

Mansnoozie didn't feel anything in his squat little belly at all.

* * *

_I know this chapter's a little shorter, but I hope it's okay. Jack! Poor confused Jack. He and Peeves are going to have lots of shenanigans. Greno, if you don't know, was the thug who went to fetch the guards in Tangled. And yes, he does have a star tattoo. I'm just going to build on his character. Please review, no matter how harshly - it always warms my heart! Thanks._


	4. Hinkypunks and Slytherins

_It's been forever since I last posted, but the universe got in the way of my muse, sorry. I'll try to be more consistent._

* * *

"How on earth are ye supposed tae get to classes on time?" Merida complained indignantly, as for the second time that week she was scolded by Professor Toothiana. "It's like the place crosses time zones. Three o'clock in Potions, noontime at Charms."

Merida had lived in a big house, but Hogwarts seemed incredibly fond of pushing limits. There were a hundred and forty two staircases, and they were always moving - it might be in a different place on Friday, or it might spontaneously turn into a slippery ramp for amusement, or it might have an invisible empty step thirteen steps up that you had to remember. Then there were the bloody doors - she'd been late for Transfiguration because she'd been trying to get through a stupid door that wasn't a door at all, just a solid wall pretending. The portrait were eerie - she was used to tapestries that shimmered as though real, but at least the people inside them didn't move.

When Professor Toothiana thought she had chastised Merida enough, off the redhead went, plonking down next to Scotty Jorgenson and grumbling. "It was Peeves again," she muttered. "I want tae bloody murder that poltergeist. Gonnae make a necklace outta his ghostly entrails..."

Almost as bad as Peeves was Mildew and Fungus. Merida most certainly had qualms against sheep, especially intestinally challenged ones like Fungus. If Mildew wasn't sizing up the first years in the corridors, he was almost certainly storming to the Headmaster's office with his complaint of the day.

Once she actually could find the classes, Merida learned there was a lot more to magic than she had first expected. And unfortunately, everything she had heard about Hogwarts wasn't exactly true. The classes had a soporific affect on her, like someone had drugged her pumpkin juice with Sleeping Potions - just like at home with her mum. Merida was actually becoming quite the artist, seeing how much doodling she was doing in her classes.

Her very first class was Transfiguration with Professor Bunnymund, a surly sort of Aussie with grizzled gray hair. "All right, you little anklebiters, listen up," he said over the din of excitedly chattering Gryffindors. "Transfiguration is no hard boiled egg. It's a difficult and dangerous branch of magic involving the alteration of an object or creature's molecular structure, so you'd better listen to what I say, or you might be stuck as a warthog for the rest of your life."

Then he took Merida's Transfiguration textbook and turned it into a turtle and back. Everyone was very impressed (Merida was a little disappointed that Professor didn't keep it as a turtle, she hated books) and eager to get started, but after taking a lot of complicated notes, all the class got to do was to try and turn a match into a needle. Merida's match burst into turquoise flames.

Charms was with the Hufflepuffs. Merida sat with Astrid Hofferson and Punzie - the smiley girl from the train, who really wasn't that bad. Charms was also pretty awful. Professor Toothiana was a purple-eyed feathery Rapunzel in all her bright overwhelming cheerfulness. They had to learn stupid pronunciation and wand movements. Merida already got enough of it at home, where she had to recite the Clan Saga, the story of the union of the four houses. It was all for naught. Even at home she was a bit of an artist. Her mother had to tell Merida that "my little princess doesnae doodle" quite a bit. She doesnae chortle, either, even when your seemingly invincible father is being trampled by a screeching hippogriff.

Merida liked Astrid Hofferson, who was living proof that Hufflepuff was not just a bunch of old duffers. She wasn't even remotely nice. Merida had been grumbling, as it seemed those useless bell-pointed house elves had tipped Mildew off about her hidden bow and arrows and she was to take them to the stinking old guy immediately. So she'd been carrying it through the corridors when she'd bumped into a blonde carrying a battle ax.

"Nice ax," said Merida.

"Thanks! I like your bow, and the arrows are perfect."

"Why, thank you! I carved mae arrows myself."

"Niiiiice."

Astrid had to give up her ax to Mildew for exactly the same reason, and by the time they had reached his office they were already mock-scheming to break their weapons out one day and do some target practice.

Rapunzel was a bit irritating, but seeing that Merida was doing badly in all of her classes so far, she could be quite helpful. The girl was brilliant in anything they threw at her, even Astrology, which was a nightmare.

"What on earth am gonnae need tae know the names of Saturn's moons for?"

Rapunzel's permanently cheery smile faltered. "Well, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

Merida thought about it for a second. She thought about her perfect, beastly, socialite mother, contained without a single hair out of place.

"I want to stay single and ride through the glen, firing arrows into the sunset," said Merida.

Rapunzel said nothing at that.

* * *

The next morning held cause for celebration, as it was the first time she and Scotty (she had taken to calling him Snotty, it fit better) got down to the Great Hall without getting lost. Her mother's voice echoed in her head as she loaded up her plate - _My little princess doesnae stuff her gob! _Snorting derisively, she stuffed her face with relish.

"Defensive Against the Dark Arts first thing," said Snotty, wolfing down his bacon at warp speed. "With the _Slytherins."_

Merida spewed scrambled eggs. _"What?"_

"Awful, right? At least I'll get to see the twins again - y'know, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Slytherins? From Berk. The-"

"Devil's island, I know," Merida interjected with a dramatic sigh. Dammit. That smirking Overland twat would be there. Absolutely brilliant.

She resolved to hex him and let Peeves take the blame. That bloody poltergeist could come in handy sometimes. She could feel it. In her belly.

Suddenly there was much shrieking and swooping. Merida didn't even look up. It was the arrival of the owls. She smiled a bit as one of her mother's messenger hawks landed in Snotty's breakfast and gave her carrot-colored tresses a friendly nip.

"Help yerself," said Merida, gesturing expansively to the bacon, and unwrapped her letter.

_My princess,_

_I hope you are doing all right. I believe my first letter may be a few days late. Please don't be worried. _

_How are your classes? I do hope you're paying attention. All your father cares about is that you are in the Gryffindor House, where the brave dwell at heart, and he is quite proud of you. I have heard much about the house of courage, and I implore you not to be reckless or rash. You need to keep your head. And stay out of trouble. I've asked Professor North to keep an eye on you._

_Have you made any friends? It might be difficult, but-_

"What's this?"

Merida gasped as the letter was torn from her grasp. A very familiar, quite evil voice snickered and read out dramatically, "My _princess. _What are you, the Princess of Absurd Hair?"

"Give it _here, _Overland!" Merida shouted. She grit her teeth as Jack dangled it high above her reach, grinning at her. "Ye an impossible, arrogant little twat-"

"What is going on here?"

Professor Toothiana had sauntered over in a flurry of bright colors and whimsical sternness. Jack immediately put on a contrite face. "Nothing, Professor. I was being a Slytherin, was all."

"Don't let me catch you being a Slytherin again," said Toothiana, but she seemed far too cheerful about it, and when she pranced off she was grinning. Jack flashed his pearly whites at her - they should have come with a sign, _Risk of Permanent Blindness Imminent - _and walked off with a spring in his step.

"Teacher's pet," Merida muttered. "She likes the prat? How revolting."

And in all the commotion Merida entirely forgot to finish reading her letter. She looked, in fact, so dangerous, that even Snotty opted not to talk to her for the rest of breakfast.

* * *

"Why are you pretending I'm not here?" Merida snapped.

"Wishful thinking?" Overland suggested.

Bloody brilliant, that Merida happened to accidentally sit right next to the git, and then Professor North had announced that was where they would be sitting for the rest of the year.

Professor North's classroom was cozy, to say the least. The windows were frosted over, even though it was comfortably warm and it was only autumn. Ice sculptures lined the walls, everything from a house-elf to a hydra that seemed to move when looked at from different angles. A chainsaw was propped against Professor North's desk.

"My name is Nickolas St. North," said the Professor, his voice laced with a distinctly Russian burr. "This class is meant to be an empowering experience. The Dark Arts are dark for a reason. To harm others without noble intent, it is corrupting. It destroys your center. Here you will learn to defend yourself from this kind of corruption."

"The Dark Arts - it is so vague, no? I like to call it _maleficium. _This is more specific, and the term is more widespread, now, thanks to Gemma T. Leslie, author of _The Left Hand Path _and of the Simon Snow series... you will know these books, they are quite popular. Now, if you will take out your quills, we will be taking some notes..."

Merida made an honest attempt to ignore the fact that Overland was sitting next to her, and to not fall asleep, but just the act of putting a quill in her hand seemed to always flip a switch.

"...most incantations are Latin-based, but in fourth year you will be learning some spells from other countries..."

"Hey, Little Miss Bird's nest, uh..."

"Shut it, Overland, I'm trying to listen!"

"...and you will be learning jinxes and counter-spells also..."

"Wait, DunBroch, there's a-"

_"Shut up!"_

"...if magic was in the Muggle world, it would be a fourth branch of science, with chemistry, biology, and physics - it is a supernatural thing, magic, and alters the fabric of reality at fundamental levels..."

Finally, Nathan Greno decided to put an end to it. "Professor North, there's a hinkypunk in her hair."

After much screaming, profanity, Russian, and several students with mild burns and singed hair sucking on their fingers, as well as the hinkypunk in question turning on Professor North's music box (which immediately started singing _Bohemian Rhapsody _in an epic voice) the hinkypunk was finally destroyed by Professor North's well placed jinx.

Merida couldn't stop shaking her head. There was something oddly familiar about it... the wispy way it moved, the sounds it made, the way it glowed at the faintest touch...

She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn't even notice Jack stammering out an apology for not getting the punkywhatsit out of her hair. But if she had, she might have just stepped on his foot and run off. Because there was no way she was ever going to tolerate that twat. Like, _ever._

* * *

"Merida and the Wisps. Oooh. Sounds like a band name."

"Shut it, Snotty, I'm _serious! _Didnae become ye friend fer insults."

They sat in the Gryffindor common room, alternatively bemoaning the mountains of History of Magic homework (she might have possibly loathed that class the most) and talking about the rogue hinkypunk. It was coming back to her now, memories of a sunny time when she was a _maighdean uasal bhàn - _a noble maiden fair... a time when her mother's arms were warm and welcoming, and a blade was a heavy thing in her hands...

"Come on, Meri, you're freaking out over nothing," said Scotty.

When she would follow their beckoning flames into the shadow of the wood...

"Who even _cares _about the International Warlock Convention of 1289? That rotten Binns manages to make even giant wars and dragon slaying sound as dull as dirt..."

_You know, they sae the will o' the wisps lead you to your fate._

"Who is making all the racket?" someone called as they stepped through the portrait hole. _Professor North, from the voice, _Merida thought. "They sound like a wild yak..." North took one look at Snotty and shrugged. "Eh, close enough."

* * *

_Snotlout :). I may or may not have been listening to Bohemian Rhapsody while writing this. Next up: Rapunzel and her infinite cheerfulness, Halloween, and a little bit more drama, please! Sorry for such a short chapter, I may or may not go back and add more later. PLEASE leave reviews! They fill up my bucket of happiness!_


	5. Jack o' Lantern

"Can't you think of just one thing good about him?" Rapunzel asked.

"Uh-huh," said Merida. "Somedae, he'll be dead."

Rapunzel sighed in exasperation. Merida would never like Jack, it seemed. Apparently, "Overland" had put a hinkypunk in Merida's hair during D.A.D.A., but Merida didn't seem too sure about the story herself, so...

Rapunzel sat with him in Potions, which he was't so good at. He didn't seem to have many friends. He was a little too mischievous for his own good, and Punzie had caught him more than once jinxing Garrett Hook's draught. Or falling asleep in class. He was outstanding at that. Rapunzel was a little scared of the Slytherins, but Jack really, really, really reminded her of Merida, so she decided not to be scared of him. Not that Rapunzel had told Merida that herself, because the feisty Scot would probably set fire to her Transfiguration essay. By accident-except-maybe-a-little-on-purpose.

On the whole, life was good. Life was _new _and _exciting _and _brilliant, _actually. Never in her life had she _not_ found herself staring at the clock. She was busy. She had new things to do. Every. Day.

Squee!

Her fellow Hufflepuffs couldn't understand the novelty. Actually, her fellow Hufflepuffs wondered why she was there at all. "But you're brilliant," said Astrid Hofferson, looking glum. "You're like a born Ravenclaw."

Apparently, Mildew had confiscated her ax, which was why Hofferson was so down. Rapunzel thanked her lucky stars the house elves hadn't found her frying pan yet. She'd asked Professor Toothiana for a Concealing Charm In-A-Bottle. It worked like a charm. Even in her head, Rapunzel had to admit that was an incredibly lame pun.

"Astrid's jealous, Goldie," Clarissa Chang, a sleek-haired second year, had told her, after Hofferson had stomped crabbily out of the common room.

"Of me? But - that's impossible - she's so much _stronger_ than I am-"

"You're good without trying," said Clarissa bluntly. Rapunzel wanted to protest - _I did plenty of trying, I just did it at home first! - _but Clarissa went on. "They all think you belong in Ravenclaw. Frankly, I'm not too sure myself. You're too... You're like Professor Toothiana's child, and she's Head of Ravenclaw."

It was true that she and her Charms teacher had gotten along rather well. Rapunzel had gotten detention in her first class with Mother for provoking the Spitting Chrysanthemums, but "Tooth" had taken it from her, and they'd spent the evening painting a mural on the Charms Corridor and giggling over their little rebellion. Thank God Tooth would always give her passes into the Restricted Section, because Mother never would...

After they returned from Astrology at midnight on Wednesdays, Rapunzel decided to help Clarissa on a Potions essay. "Clarissa, you've been naughty," Punzie said, waggling a finger at her friend. "Stop checking out Walter Smith's arse with your telescope, it isn't attractive. We look at the stars in Astrology, not the moon."

Clarissa burst out laughing. "And here I was, thinking you had the sense of humor of a wet bowl of tapioca. It's not my fault he's gorgeous."

"He has _facial hair _and he's only in fourth year! That's not gorgeous, it's Slytherin-esque!"

"You'll see," said Clarissa, jotting down some last poignant lines on her Potions essay. "Someday, you will meet a guy with facial hair and a sexy voice, and he will be irresistible."

"You are weird. Oh, and it's crushed pufferfish eyes that go into the Babbling Beverage after you stir counter-clockwise, not crumpled porcupine quills."

"Damn."

Rapunzel shifted in her cozy armchair, stroking Pascal with a light finger. Clarissa had a backbone and was one of the only females who hadn't shrieked at the sight of him. "What about Billy Montague, in Slytherin? He likes you."

_"Bignose?_" She laughed humorlessly. "He's one disgusting blighter. And he's moral garbage on legs. I suppose the best that can be said of him on a romantic level is that at least he isn't gay." Clarissa's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. "That we know of," she added. "He and Cupid..."

"A first year and fourth year? Okay, that's a little..."

When they'd finally wandered up to bed, Rapunzel felt a little discontent. It was time for a ranting session with Pascal, who always listened. It was her third rant about Mother, life, and everything. There was a lot to rant about there...

"...she never told me about this world! She never told me about _anything! _And now I'm learning new things and making friends and everything is good, and she, just..." Rapunzel sighed and rolled over on her bed. "When I walk into her office, it's like she sucks all the energy out of a room. I don't know. I just feel this way, and I shouldn't be feeling this way. She's my _mum, _Pascal..."

Pascal curled against Rapunzel's shoulder. _Punzie, don't be sad. Things will be better._

"Things are already good. I don't have any reason to be unhappy, and that should be good enough..."

Rapunzel had realized a long time ago (she was eight at the time) that Pascal was an Animagus. That he wasn't technically a chameleon, he was a wizard in a lizard's body that could still Transfigure himself (no chameleon could make the color changes as quickly as Pascal could naturally.) She'd spent hours trying to coax him into his human form, but that made him desperately unhappy. Rapunzel wondered why he imprisoned himself like that, and why he'd stayed with her, even after Mother had tried to ban him from the tower. Pascal still had magic, and he'd broken Mother's Stay-Away enchantment and hidden whenever Mother was around.

He was her first and best friend, and Rapunzel would not forget that. But she just wished he would tell her...

* * *

"Why don't you ever cut your hair?" Jack asked

Rapunzel instinctively stroked her golden locks. Unbraided, they brushed her ankles, and every time she sat she had to bunch it up to keep it from trailing on the floor. "Uh... well... I can't..." She sighed. Jack was a good friend. He wasn't exactly a nice person, but none of the Houses were explicitly meant to be nice, were they? And he was very nice to her. "My hair... it has, um, special properties. Oh God, if Mother knew I was telling you this... it's magical, and if it's cut, it loses its power. I... I can't tell you anything else."

Jack looked disappointed, his salt and pepper brows knitting together, but Rapunzel couldn't do anything about it.

"Don't wonder or worry about me, Jack," said Rapunzel. Pascal was swimming around in her hair. "I can't tell you... "

"But why can't you? Inhibitions?"

"I'm a Hufflepuff. I have a right to be inhibited. Loyalty, right? Hufflepuffs are all about being loyal..." Loyal and obedient... _I hope this means you'll be a little more obedient to your mumsy, my pet, _she had said. _Now that your in the house of old duffers. Oh, don't look so glum, darling, I'm just teasing... _

Because Mother cared, because Mother couldn't bear to see Rapunzel get hurt, because Rapunzel owed her Mother for being cared for all those years, because Mother knew best...

Both of them leaned back for a moment. The library was oddly quiet. Probably because Merida wasn't there. All that hair seemed to produce extra noise. Then again, Rapunzel had hair that was just as fabulous in some ways and a hundred times more peculiar in others and _it _didn't produce extra noise, so it might have just been Merida's personality.

"Why are you always so... _brooding?" _Rapunzel asked.

Jack shook his head. "I have no right to be unhappy." _That sounds familiar._ "I have a loving family and a darling, fretful little sis and a mum who can't stop worrying and the people I'm expected to room with for the next seven years have a problem with the purity of my blood... agh, it's a little messed up."

_And I have lived in a tower for the past twelve years and have never met anyone and the Sorting Hat appears to have made a mistake about the House I'm supposed to be in for the next seven years and, oh, did I mention the overprotective, loving mother and the magic hair that glows when I sing? _"It's a lot messed up," said Rapunzel.

She expected Jack to make a comment. _How can a girl as cheerful as you have anything to angst over? They don't call you Goldie just 'cause of the hair. You're... _Was she imagining him complimenting her on purpose? Eek. Her cheeks felt strangely warm. But Jack didn't say anything. Like he knew appearances weren't everything.

Mother always called her gullible and naive, but Rapunzel wasn't so sure. Yes, everything was new and thrilling, but she _could _read people. She wasn't floundering around in the dark. She saw that people had layers. She saw when a smile didn't meet their eyes. Not everyone was honest.

Even Rapunzel could do an underhanded, dishonorable thing like _lying_. She could put on a twinkling smile. Even if it didn't reach her eyes.

But she wouldn't break her promises. Because she gave her word...

"Clarissa says girls and guys can't be best friends. Like, properly. Without awkwardness." Rapunzel looked up at Jack - he was quite a bit taller than her, even sitting down, and seemed even more so with the tufty brown hair.

Jack's eyebrows raised. Rapunzel really liked his eyebrows. His eyes also, but it would be weird, staring at those dark honey-flecked eyes all the time. She didn't want to creep him out. With other people, she didn't care about how creepy she was. But Jack was different, kind of. Brooding. Mischievous. Gentle. Mother would never approve.

"I disagree with her," said Rapunzel, and at that moment she wasn't so sure which _her _she was referring to.

Jack smiled.

* * *

"As you know, we will only move to the greenhouses in your second year, and so any hands-on experience is limited. Mainly, we shall be utilizing memorization, lectures, tests, essays, and theory."

Mother had a strange way of keeping silence and order without requesting it. It might have been the way she stood, cutting a menacing figure as she casually siphoned dust off her impeccable fingernails with her wand.

"Before you sits either a harmless Lacefoam, which can be brewed to induce pleasant, mild daydreams, or the deadly poisonous Kingsfoil, so named because many kings have died by consuming a draught of the very thing. Assassins, you know... The earth is our mother and our tomb, a double edged sword. Do not forget the power of the things that first bloomed in an inhospitable world. There are opposite elements in everything, in men and in herbs and in life..."

Mother lazily waved her wand, and a plant that resembled cotton balls of lace appeared on every second desk. "Partner up, open _A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, _and attempt to seek out the difference. Whoever correctly identifies the plant before them will receive five points for their House."

Rapunzel turned and smiled at Hiccup. She hadn't seen much of him since the train, and he looked just the same. "You want to-"

"Rapunzel, darling, would you be a dear and be _my _partner?" said Mother in a singsong voice.

For the first time, Rapunzel's cheeks flamed scarlet. Of course she would, she always did what Mother told her to, but did Mother have to be so _embarrassing? _In front of Hiccup? Or Astrid? She didn't want to look really silly in front of everyone...

"There's a dear," Mother cooed, as Rapunzel sat at the teacher's desk. Now Rapunzel could see everyone - Fregley Ingerman with Astrid, who looked a little irritated, and Hiccup with Dingwall. Even Hiccup seemed capable of putting on a disgruntled face. Hiccup had a brilliant face, actually. Rapunzel blushed. _Did I seriously just think that?_

"Rapunzel, snap out of it," said Mother sharply, snapping her fingers. "You're always somewhere up in the clouds, dear. It isn't endearing to be ditzy."

"Sorry, Mother, I-I didn't mean to..." Rapunzel mumbled.

"Rapunzel, if I wanted nonsense I would have asked for a Babbling Beverage, _please _speak up!"

Rapunzel winced. "Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother..."

"Oh, don't give me that face, my flower, you're adorable, you know that?"

* * *

"Are mothers supposed to be like that?"

Rapunzel looked up from _The Standard Book of Spells, _where she was attempting a Softening Charm on a spare slab of cardboard. "Like what?"

"Being snappy and then... _just teasing... _and... overprotective, I guess... I mean, I wouldn't know, my mum is..."

Rapunzel eyes widened in horror. "Oh, I-I'm so-"

"Don't. Please." Hiccup slumped in his chair. "You spend a lot of time in the library, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. _Spongify!" _A burst of pink light slammed into the cardboard, and suddenly the surface appeared rather rubbery. Rapunzel poked it gingerly. "Yes! Professor Toothiana will be so pleased... Well, I have to spend time in here, right? A bunch of my friends are in different Houses. Jack, Merida, you..."

"I wish you were in Ravenclaw," said Hiccup. "You would fit in there. Sometimes I'm not so sure about myself. Dad says I'm too trusting and nice-guy to be in the Ravenclaw House, but mostly he's just disappointed I'm not in Gryffindor." Hiccup sighed. "I mean, I _tried, _but the stupid Hat, it didn't..."

He looked so down. He wasn't usually a little ray of sunshine, but the way he looked at things was usually with a bright intelligence. Like, there were opportunities and advantages there that no one else could see, and he was going to freaking take them...

"Hey," said Rapunzel. "It's gonna be alright. You'll see. Fregley told me the Ravenclaw password is a riddle. So I'll come up there sometime and say hi, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Rapunzel said back, and giggled.

* * *

"Punzel, do stop rushing about. Five minutes ago you were shrieking hysterically and now you seem to be doing an impression of Professor Toothiana on speed. I'm getting a migraine."

Rapunzel ignored Clarissa and paced harder than ever, her ankle-length hair flinging all over the place. "It's the _Hallowe'en _feast. I've never celebrated Hallowe'en! I didn't even know what that _was _until I heard Dingwall mumbling about it with the Hunk!"

The Hunk was their nickname for the fourth year that the Lord of Buxom, Maudie, kept on making passes towards. Merida seemed vaguely interested, something that Rapunzel found amusing to no end.

Clarissa rolled her eyes and grabbed Rapunzel's wrist. "I'd rather be early than watch you pace around. Keep it up and I bet something's going to explode. Pent-up energy is not so good. C'mon, we're going. _Now."_

Rapunzel had butterflies exploding in her stomach like colorful ping-pong balls. Apparently Hallowe'en was about scary stuff, but it was also supposed to be a joke...? And everyone was supposed to be pranking each other and eating candy and wearing outlandish clothes... It was a little confusing.

But as they neared the Great Hall, Rapunzel felt her nervousness go slack. It was just people being stupid. People were stupid all the time. And when they actually walked in, all her anxiety was smashed into pieces, as she was body-slammed by amazement instead.

The usual floating lanterns were absent. Instead, levitating pumpkins with their flickering innards lurked above their heads. Live bats twittered and flitted through the air. The occasional cloud wafted above a cold full moon in the enchanted ceiling. Thick, gnarled vines curled up the walls.

But the tables were the real deal. Candy apples, cauldrons of lollipops, blocks of Honeydukes chocolate and carrot cake and pumpkin pie and every mouthwatering candy imaginable... _Mother will have a fit over the bats, _Rapunzel thought gleefully, taking a seat in the near vicinity of Clarissa Chang, Walter Smith, and a couple of his cronies. His friends were a lot more relaxed than he was.

"The ghosts are going to do some formation gliding!" Rapunzel heard someone say.

"No, MiM's charmed some skeletons to dance for us, it'll be fantastic!"

MiM again. Rapunzel still wasn't sure exactly who this MiM was, or what he stood for. She got that he was the Headmaster, but even Professor Toothiana didn't tell her anything, and Clarissa got oddly hysterical whenever she brought it up.

Rapunzel heard the chair next to her scrape the ground, and she turned to see Hiccup carrying a wooden box and nervously mussing with his hair. "I think we're allowed to sit anywhere," he said. "Can I-"

"Sure," she said, beaming.

"I'll join you," said a second voice. Merida plonked down in front of Rapunzel, snatched a candy apple off the table, and started chowing down appreciatively. "Snotlout is desperately boorish."

"First Scotty, then Snotty, now Snotlout," said Hiccup. "I won't be surprised if the twins rename him Snotface."

* * *

The formation gliding of the ghosts was simply spectacular, even though Merida fell asleep after consuming an entire cauldron of candy and snored through the whole thing. Hiccup had brought his wizarding chess set with him; Rapunzel lost brutally twice but managed a narrow win after she managed to get a pawn across the board. Rapunzel couldn't help but sneak Jack looks. He looked lonely, sitting with Scotty, the twins, Fregley Ingerman, Astrid, and that Nathan Greno fellow.

She'd laughed when he'd stuck one of the pumpkins over his head. _A Jack o' lantern, _he'd mouthed to her. _Sexy, right? _Rapunzel rolled her eyes. They were only in first year, the big goof.

"Why does everyone hate Jack?" she asked, when Merida finally awoke as a ghost passed through her.

"He's a git," said Merida, shuddering from the cold of the ghost.

"He's a Slytherin," said Hiccup.

"Good point," said Merida, munching on a sugar quill.

"He's really nice to me," said Rapunzel. He had two modes of existence, Rapunzel reasoned - pranking-and-annoying-the-hell-out-of-everyone mode, and brooding-gentle-sensitive-guy mode. She got a lot of the second.

"Hey, is that the Witch Weekly you've got?" Astrid suddenly, pointing to Rapunzel's schoolbag (even on a holiday she couldn't possibly part with it.)

"You want to see?"

"The Weekly's gotten loads better. Much more legit," said Astrid, flipping through the pages. Rapunzel had no idea Astrid liked magazines. It seemed grossly out of character, for someone so focused on schoolwork.

"Ooh, look! _Are You Too Forward When It Comes to Boys? _Neat," said Rapunzel. "Are you?"

Merida looked, and then snorted. "Apparently so. Doesnae ruffle mae hair."

"Your hair's already plenty ruffled," said Hiccup. Astrid suddenly seemed to notice he was there, and narrowed her eyes. Was Hiccup - _was he blushing? _Rapunzel suppressed a giggle as Hiccup went on. "Because after all, that nice, shy boy who sits beside you in D.A.D.A. might just be your soulmate."

"Overland sits next to me in D.A.D.A.," said Merida darkly.

"Aw, how cute," said Astrid. "You hate him, he hates you, and then... love blossoms."

A budding bromance was definitely evolving between Merida and Astrid. Punzel could taste it. She might not have much experience with people, but she had loads and loads of intuition. And if she could communicate with a chameleon lizard thing, anything was possible.

* * *

_So that's that! This chapter was a little bit of an angsty filler, but Rapunzel deserved some input. Yes, I put Hiccup in Ravenclaw and Rapunzel in Hufflepuff, and the fact that they don't quite fit in to either House is going to be addressed. Clarissa Chang is the girl the Big Nose Thug falls in love with at the end of Tangled. Walter Smith is the captain of the guard. Astrid and Merida are totally bros. I decided to give Pascal a bit of a backstory, it just occurred to me one day... Rapunzel is the only one of the four who is friends with everyone already. Although Merida finds her a little strange :) Next up - Quidditch! Yes! Yes yes yes!_


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